


Sugar Butter Sweet

by amatterofluck (lilithenaltum), lilithenaltum



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: F/M, Food Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 16:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithenaltum/pseuds/amatterofluck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithenaltum/pseuds/lilithenaltum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew making Rice Krispie treats would be so much fun?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Butter Sweet

“Rice Krispie Treats?” you ask, smiling at his sudden urge to cook.

“Rice Krispie Treats.” he responds, and he smirks.

“They’re not vegan….”

“Who gives a fuck? Everything is not about Jared.”  
“You know good and damned well that if we cook and don’t make something for Jay, he’ll get upset. And he’ll do that pouty face he does and his big blue eyes get all misty…”

“Fine. We’ll Google a recipe for vegan Rice Krispie Treats. But I want the real ones. With the butter. And marshmallows…all gooey and sticky and…god.”

“You sound like you’re describing sex.”

“It’s similar, yes. To sex, that is.”

“Rice Krispie Treats?”

“Mmhm. Rice Krispie Treats. And sex. They’re practically the same thing.”

You shiver when he licks his lips and grins like that. You always shiver when he does that, and it’s 98 degrees outside and the oven is blazing and you’re in just his White Horse tee and nothing else. No undies. No socks or flip flops. It’s too fucking hot. He stands beside the stove in boxers and some slippers and you’re staring at that thick ass of his, that back, the tattoos, the bite and scratch marks from last night…you grin and bite your lip and he catches you staring. “Are ya gonna sit there and ogle my ass, babe, or are ya gonna help me make some Rice Krispie Treats?”

Butter. Marshmallows. Rice Krispies. It’s the simplest recipe ever. He heats the marshmallows and butter in the sauce pan as you watch, snacking on a few handfuls of cereal before he grabs the box with a grin and swats your ass playfully. “You’ll eat the whole box, and we won’t have any to make treats with.” You shrug, sit on the edge of the kitchen table and lick your lips. “That box is bigger than god, we’ll have plenty enough, mister. Don’t get fresh with me.” He raises one of his infamous eyebrows and leans forward, hands beside your hips, breath hot on your skin. You get goosebumps, a chill runs up your spine, heat courses through your body and down between your thighs. Jesus. You want him so bad, again. As if last night wasn’t enough. As if round after round after round of mind blowing sex wasn’t enough.

It was never enough. You were insatiable when it came to that man. And he seemed to not be able to get enough of you either…either that, or maybe Jared and Tomo were right. He’d give you anything you asked for…especially his body.

“Shannon Leto”, you purr, brushing the tip of his nose with your lips, just barely, and he closes his gorgeous hazel eyes, smiles. “Yes, love,” he whispers, spatula still in hand. “The butter’s gonna burn.” His eyes bulge open and he hops back to the stove with a grunt, stirring the now boiling mixture. “Cereal, babe?” You scoot off the table and pour the cereal into a greased bowl, as he pours the hot butter and marshmallow mixture on top, and then stirs. It’s sticky, alright, and gooey and it smells divine, butter and sugar all rolled into one. You swear you’re gaining weight just smelling it. Greasing his hands with some leftover butter he gives you a goofy grin that makes you giggle and digs in, hissing a bit. “Shit that’s still hot!” he growls, and you snort, leaning against his shoulder. “Duh, doofus. You just poured hot butter in there. It’s not going to be freezing.” He rolls his eyes and begins to mold the cereal into a greased pan, spreading it out with his fingers against the edges, smoothing any lumps and humps from the even layer. He’s done pretty soon and all that’s left is to start Jared’s batch…though you’re not sure how you’re going to go about making the treats without butter. Corn syrup and sugar substitute maybe? As you’re musing this Shannon washes his hands in the sink and covers the treats with foil, setting them beside the stove to cool. “And so we wait,” you murmur, sitting back on your post at the table, folding your naked legs underneath you Indian style. You’re perfectly content right now to stare at him, his thick, chiseled body, the way his muscles flex underneath his tanned skin. Instead, he interrupts your gazing with his handsome face in view, beautiful and breathtaking, his lips perfectly curved, made for kissing. He leans in then for a kiss, and his long eyelashes brush your cheeks, making you smile with a simple kind a joy. It’s almost unreal how much you love him. Almost scary.

You get lost in the kiss, sighing against his mouth, opening yours slightly and inviting his tongue in. He bites on your bottom lip gently, his hands sliding up the shirt and against your skin, caressing your sides and hips, your thighs. Lifting the shirt, he exposes you to him and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, scooting yourself to the edge of the table and pulling him closer, as close as you can. He hums as he kisses you, working his mouth down from your plump lips to your chin, nibbling as he finds your throat. His fingers press into your hot skin and circle, softly, making you quiver and gasp a little. Sliding your hands into his hair, you lean back a little more and wrap your free arm around his shoulder, dig your nails into the thick muscular flesh there when he sucks hard on the skin of your neck. “That’s gonna be a hickey, babe,” you whisper, your voice a breathless shudder. He laughs and you clench without thinking, the ache between your legs no longer the simple soreness of last night’s pleasures, but now a driving need. “A hickey from Shannon’s like a Hallmark card,” he whispers and flattens the palms of his strong hands down against your sides, moving them slowly until his fingers curl around your fleshy, lush hips, tugging your naked bottom closer to his waist. Against the thin cotton separating you from him you can feel his erection, hot and heavy and ready already and you give a moan, then a laugh. “Mmmm that’s Kenickie, baby…” He lifts his head and he’s meeting your eyes then, and you get lost, the way you do every time he stares at you, the way you do whenever your eyes meet his across the table at Mama C’s during dinner on his birthday…or whenever you’re making cupcakes and he’s playing with the puppy in the living room. And then he gives you that smirk, the kind that he knows sets your body on fire and melts you to molten lava. You struggle to not moan even as his tongue come out, just a little, and wet his lips and by god you want…need…that tongue on or in you in some kind of way.

“Oh I know,” he says, in that voice…Jesus Christ, that voice… “But would you rather have Kenickie or good ole Shanimal?” You pause for a second, even as your own hands are dragging his underwear off, your body pushing against his. “I’d say Kenickie, just to piss you off.” He lifts an eyebrow and leans in close, and abruptly tugs the White Horse tee off of you, exposing you to his sight. “You’re such a cock tease,” he growls and you giggle, then tug his boxers the rest of the way down with your toes so that you’re both now naked. “You love it though,” you murmur and urge him to touch you, his calloused hands gliding over every curve, his mouth finding your nipples and sucking, just enough to make you grind your hips against his pelvis. “You love every bit of it.” He pulls away from your breast with a slight plop and spreads your thighs wider. “Every fucking bit,” he says with a grin and moves forward, intending to take your mouth with his as he takes you.

Until he realizes things aren’t lining up the way they should. He’s a few inches too short to clear the top of the table below his waist. “Um…” You suppress the urge to burst into giggles and push him away gently. “Sit down,” you order, and he flops into the chair, legs spread, licking his lips in anticipation as you straddle him. Hands soft on your waist, he holds his breath with you as you lower yourself on top of him, slowly, and you close your eyes, mouth open just a little as he stretches you inch by tortuously pleasurable inch. “Fuck,” you whisper, moaning, as he fills your wet heat and he groans as you move a little bit, finding a more comfortable angle. Shannon shifts his hips up then and you began to rock with him, your toes finding purchase on the cool marble floor, hips lifting and circling and grinding, up and down and around and in and out and yes…please, yes…right there right there, fuck yes. It’s relatively quiet then, just the hushed whispering moans and pants of the both of you, the tick of the kitchen clock, the rushing blood that pumps through your veins. Leaning forward you kiss him then, his succulent mouth exploring yours softly and slowly, in sharp contrast to the urgency of just minutes before. He devours you, his hands pushing and pulling your hips in time with your motions, and with every thrust you can feel him tremble. “Shan…Shannon…” you moan, eyes shut tight and he watches you as your hips push faster, harder, reaching out for more and more and more. “Yeah, baby? What do you want? Tell me…” But you can’t quite articulate your need. Instead, you lean back then, making him slip deeper inside you and he’s right on your spot then. With a sharp cry of pleasure you grip his forearms, fingertips brushing against tight muscle and veins, and he pushes upward hard, snapping his hips against your body, driving inside you with controlled force. Your toes barely scrap the floor now and you dig your nails into his skin, feeling something winding and curling up inside you. “Baby, please…come on, help me…” The words tumble out your mouth in a lust hazy slur but he obliges, moving you up and down on top of him faster, pumping his own hips deeper. His tanned skin is lined with a sheen of slick sweat, his breathing rushed and shallow, and he’s focused, almost lost, in his need to make you cum. “Fuckin’…how close are you, baby?” he asks, and you cry out, a little bit desperate, and try to focus on your orgasm. “Just…I need a little bit…something extra…I just…Shannon…please…” He knows how bad the ache has to bed, how good it feels to have him deep inside of you, this close to the edge but not able to fall. He moves to stand then and slides out of you, making you nearly cry in frustration. You don’t have much of a chance, however, because he’s lifted you and you’re spread out on the table like supper, legs spread, sweaty and so fucking hot and aching so much you could cry. He pushes his hands against the table top then and crawls up on it, over you, and settles quickly between your thighs. And as your legs wind around his waist he slides inside you, making you gasp even though you should be used to the feeling by now.

You’ll probably never get over how good that fucking feels.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he says, deep voice thick and on the edge of cracking, he’s so out of his mind in need for you. “I’ll do whatever it takes baby, I wanna see you cum.” You press a hot kiss to his lips quickly and arch your back, taking him deeper, then lift your thighs until your knees press against his shoulder blades. “Take me,” you breathe. “Hard.” He moves then, no slow gentle pace, all fire and fury. The table rocks and creaks beneath you as he thrusts, and you hold on for everything it’s worth, feeling the orgasm you’d staved off winding up again. This time is a little bit different. This time, you can feel how intense it’ll be. Your hands slide down and grip his ass, palms flattened against the tight skin to feel the muscle underneath it flex and contract. And then he snaps his hips into figure eights and grinds against your clit and hits your spot, over and over, and your nails dig, no, claw into his flesh, your head slides back along the table top and your mouth opens in a sharp lingering cry. “Fuck yes….fucking…yes…please baby,” you gasp out, almost at the edge again. This time, you’re gonna fall. “Right there?” “Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop, oh god, right there!” And he pushes, harder, gripping the edge of the table as he rocks above you, sweat dripping from his nose, his eyes still focused on your face. You bury your head into the crook of his neck and curl your body around him as the pounding in your ears overwhelm you, the tide rises. Almost..almost.

In…out, shift, pump. In, out, in, out, in, out, in…

And then your falling, falling like a stone over the edge and you’re cumming so hard you can hardly think of anything at all. Your body quivers as the orgasm rips through you and you’re vaguely aware of the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard surrounding you before you realize it’s your own. For a split second, for just a moment, you and he are entirely one person and you don’t know where his body ends and yours begins…until he slows to a soft rock, still moving, still hard. And although you’ve cum, your body responds in due time, extra sensitive now that he’s gotten your juices flowing. But it’s his turn now, because he’s held out this long just for you. You clench around him, circling your hips up and holding him inside you for a few long seconds, tightly, just enough until he whimpers, eyes slipping closed. Over and over…and he’ll snap in a few moments if you keep this up. “Oh god,” he whispers, a growling, quivering whisper, the kind that lets you know he’s almost there, almost. “Baby…fuck…you keep this up and I’m not gonna last…” You chuckle a little and kiss his nose, then proceed clenching and moving against him. He groans in pleasure and hisses a little as your nails rake his thick back. “That’s the plan, love,” you whisper in his ear. “Come on Shannon. Come on baby, let it go. Cum inside me. I wanna feel you.” He almost whimpers and lowers his head onto your shoulder, picking up the pace again, this time, thirsty for his own release, but still conscious of bringing you to another. You know it won’t take much at all to get you off again, though, and sure enough, as he twists his hips, frantically as his control falters and falls apart, you can feel another orgasm on the horizon, just around the corner. Gripping him tightly to you, you work with his thrusts, shifting and pushing up as he pumps and thrusts down and inside you. The table beneath you rocks violently now; he moves faster, harder, head tossed back, eyes shut, mouth open. You watch him in awe, your body so turned on by the sight of him in rapture you could cum right then and as he snaps his hips again, fingers gripping the edge of the table, your thighs tight around his sides, you do cum, harder than before. It’s nearly enough to knock you breathless and you can’t see, arching from the table top as you scream his name. And over the roar of blood in your ears you hear him call out for you, feel him shake and shudder on top of you, his sweat slick body milking every ounce of pleasure from you. He thrusts hard and slow now, until he’s gotten every drop of himself inside you and then collapses, a panting mess beside you on the table as he rolls over a little and pulls out.

Twenty minutes later, you’re on the floor, a sticky, gooey mess of sweat and salt and butter and sugar. Shannon’s got a handful of sticky Rice Krispie Treat in his hand, finger feeding you as you lay on the cool floor naked, hands behind your head. You giggle and suck the sugar from his finger and he moans then, a twinkle in his eye. “Again?” he asks, licking his lips and you grin, wiping some stray cereal from his mouth. “Hmmm…sounds good to me. But only if you promise you’ll treat me to some of that tongue of yours first.” He chuckles and kisses you, deep and slow and full of fire and by god, you’re melting all over again, just like butter and marshmallows and he knows it. “Promise. But…you wanna wait after we make Jay’s batch or…” You snort, flip him over, and finish the rest of the sticky treat in the pan beside him as you straddle his waist. “Fuck that,” you say, and crawl up his body slowly. “Jared can wait.” He laughs, grips your thighs, and dives right in.


End file.
